Precognitive Dreaming
by ghostofadrunkensailor
Summary: Precognitive dreaming can be a real hassle sometimes. It's like the idea of fate being shoved in your face when all you wanna do is eat pancakes and forget about all the mistakes you've made in life.


As skeptic as Grif was about most supernatural things, he always had that one exception. You know, the exception that almost every non-professional skeptic has, regardless of how much they tell others that they don't believe in anything else. It must be nice, Grif reasoned, that these exceptions never rear their ugly head whenever they wanted.

Precognitive dreaming, it was called. Some called it the ability to see the future through dreaming, others called it being 'warned of future dangers' and being 'given the chance to change the outcome'. Grif called it bullshit. Like someone could actually see the future, much less control it. Yet, there were times. And it was always the most mundane things. The first time he ever saw something, he was in another state he had never even been in before, visiting friends in an old, cold suburb after an entire life of living by the ocean and crowded seaside boardwalks. He looked down, and saw a chipped away sidewalk with plants trying desperately to grow through the concrete. Then he remembered, he had dreamed about that same perspective, down to the damn weeds that formed a wobbly diagonal crack in the block. He wanted it to be a coincidence, some strange deja vu.

And then it kept happening, while he thought something was seriously wrong with him. Deja vu that specific was normal when you never did anything special with your life in the first place. But traveling, reading new books, knowing how someone was going to respond because you remember what hasn't even happened yet. He didn't even have the chance to experiment with it, all lucid dreaming did was make him realize he was in a dream and start flying. Don't get him wrong, flying was cool, but it wasn't what he wanted.

He laid awake in bed, red in the face and furious at himself. This wasn't even the first time he had a dream as specific as this. Granted, it had been about a different person, and a different setting. But it was nearly matched in the level of embarrassment Grif had when he woke up and remembered it. Like a new level of Hell tailored just for him, he turned on his side and revisited just what sort of sins he committed for this to happen. The phone on his bedside blinked with a notification, and Grif ignored it.

It was... easier to blame Simmons. But it wasn't right, and it wouldn't solve anything to blame someone else for your own dreams. He looked at his phone, certain that it would be him if he checked it. This wasn't because of his dream, he just knew that Simmons was the only who would dare text him this early in the morning.

The first time, he had liked that girl so much. God, he had liked her so much. Granted, he was a teenager, and at that age crushes were ten a penny. They never got any closer than close friends, but he never stopped thinking about her. Maybe that's what caused it. They were standing by each other's side in the dream, like they usually did. They talked for hours and wondered what was really out there, like they usually did. In his dream though, she gets closer than she usually would. He leans in, she smiles. They kiss. Grif's face didn't burn now the way it did when he first woke up from that dream, it flushed for a completely different reason.

He picked up his phone. Surprise, surprise. Simmons was up much too early than what seemed normal for a human. And, yet again, he had assumed that Grif was just as inhuman. [Hey! What're you doing right now?]

He huffed. [sleeping]

[How are you texting me while sleeping?]

[ :| ]

[IHOP has half-off prices on pancakes all day.]

Grif shot out of bed. Brooding could wait. [gimme half an hour]

[ :D ] With that, Grif set his phone down. As he got ready, the events of the dream didn't fade, but they did become easier to justify. He had been hanging out with Simmons so often, his brain was bound to mess with him like that. Grif reached into his own basket of unmatched socks, picked two that looked similar enough, and rushed to the bathroom. While rinsing the awful taste in his mouth away, a realization came to mind: Some things in the dream had actually been different from that other one. And, the dream itself was mostly implausible. Grif and Simmons were just friends, and honestly there was no way that Grif could deal with Simmons every day if they were dating, much less as close friends.

Simmons was five minutes early, waiting outside his car while Grif hadn't even combed his hair. He ran his hands through it, and casually sauntered out the door like he hadn't just ran around the house getting ready just for half-price pancakes. "There you are!" He smiled widely.

"How are you even moving around at this hour?"

Simmons raised an eyebrow at him. "Grif, it's 11:30."

"Like I said, it's too early to even be alive right now." He slid into the passenger seat and relaxed back into the familiar leather. "You better be sure about those pancakes."

"I am sure. I got an email about it today."

Grif snorted. "You get email alerts from IHOP?"

Simmons looked up as he started the ignition. "Whuh- you told me to do it last time we were there!"

"Didn't think you'd actually do it. You don't even like pancakes that much."

Simmons shrugged. "Well, no. But you do."

Rush hour traffic meant that Grif and Simmons would be stuck for a ten more minutes in the car before they could even get to their exit. Simmons sighed, while Grif flipped through the radio. Opting for a pop station that was sure to piss Simmons off, Grif leaned back. That was when another realization hit.

"This song has been playing so much, everytime I hear it I think I die a little inside." Simmons complained, but didn't change the channel. There was no way. Okay, actually, there was. Popular, catchy songs get stuck in everyone's head. There was no coincidence that he heard that song in his dream. None at all.

Simmons leaned back, and switched the engine off in the middle of the road. "We're not moving for a while." He sighed again. "Of course this would happen to me."

Grif had to laugh, he felt the same way. "You and me both, man." Maybe if he remembered some important and fake appointment, he could get himself out of this. But, that didn't make any sense out of context. How would he leave if they couldn't even get to where they were going to go before? Grif had to calm down, remember that dreams are just dreams and it was all just superstition. Still, he didn't know if he could let this unfold the way he feared it would.

He glanced over at Simmons, and something stopped his panicked thoughts. He spoke up, worried. "Hey, are you okay?"

Simmons had his head resting against his hand, squinting past bright sun around them. "I'm just tired." He rubbed his eyes. "Didn't sleep very well."

Grif hazarded a guess. "Bad dreams?"

"Not really, just-" He seemed to stop himself. Simmons looked over at Grif, before quickly scanning the traffic jam in front of them. "Restless."

For whatever reason, that struck a chord with Grif. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Simmons shook his head. "I'm okay, but thanks." he turned back to Grif, and there it was. That weary smile, the obnoxious music, the kind of hesitation one gets when they're about to make an irreversible decision. He waited, and then remembered that it was his turn to speak.

"I'm here if you need me."

Simmons's eyes widened. Taken aback, he stuttered. "Uh, I-I know." He looked back to the traffic quickly. No luck. It was different today, Grif knew that as much. Simmons should have been yelling at him for something trivial, because that was how they worked together. That was what they usually did. Brushing it off with a laugh, like they usually did. Lingering glances, never getting any more than that. In his seat, Simmons got closer to Grif than he usually did. Grif felt himself push against the tide of the inevitable, before he let it take him. He leaned in. Simmons let out a small, nervous laugh, and smiled at Grif.

For once, Grif was grateful for his ability. Even if it was absolute hogwash.


End file.
